I found this picture the other day.
That’s me in the middle, sitting on a fishing boat, wearing nothing but a diaper and apparently having a pretty damn good time.
I don’t remember this day. I couldn’t tell you where we were going, what we were fishing for, or if anybody caught anything.
But I love this picture because I recognize something in it.
Not the boat or the fishing rods. Just the feeling of it.
There are things you grow out of. Things you swear you’ll always care about that eventually disappear without you even noticing.
Then there are the things that stick.
I’m 35 now, and somehow I still get excited about basically the same stuff. Being on the water. Going somewhere I haven’t been. Fishing even when they aren’t biting. Sitting around outside with people I care about and not needing much of a reason for being there.
I didn’t start Guadalupe because of this picture. Hell, I didn’t even remember this picture existed.
But looking at it now makes me realize that maybe the things that eventually became Guadalupe have been following me around for a lot longer than I thought.
You spend a lot of your life trying to figure out who you’re supposed to become.
Sometimes it’s worth looking back at who you were before you ever thought to ask.
Some things just stick.